Today feels like my birthday. In fact, I think it feels like every Sox fan’s birthday. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing is bad. Everything just sort of rolls. I woke up in bed today and didn’t feel like doing anything but lying there, remembering that the Red Sox won the World Series. I haven’t been able to focus on a single thing all day—except that the Red Sox won the World Series. I SMSed half of my phone book the simple message: “THE RED SOX WON THE WORLD SERIES.” I already emailed the photo I took of me and three other alums from high school to the high school alumni magazine. I tore open my box from MLB to take out my insanely gaudy AL champions official cap that, sadly, nowhere says “AL.” Way to skimp, MLB.
Gregor SMSed me back, “I know this fact could be accurate because some event is responsible 4 this wicked hangover.”
It’s all of our birthdays, I told you.
Since the Sox won Game 5 against the Yankees, I’ve been super confident in the team. Of course, it helps that they have been playing extremely confidently, too. This has been very good for my constitution. Even watching Game 1 at Milwaukee’s, a yucky South Bend-ish club/bar in downtown Toronto, as the Sox let the Cards tie the score twice, I wasn’t worried. This team was due. Everyone has been talking this year about all the freak calls that have gone the Sox way—down to the weird third strike on Mabry last night. I was confident in Game 2, and in Game 3 I even slipped into my routine from the ALCS—not even really be that wound up about the game happening.
I had class last night until 8pm. I was considering cutting, so I wouldn’t miss any of the Series, but I cut last week in order to see Game 7 of the ALCS, and I felt guilty. It’s been years (high school) since I walked to class hoping it would be called off. But it wasn’t. We even had some fun in class. But then we poured into Jimmy’s.
There’s a photo record of the Jimmy’s time here
Jimmy’s… My goodness. I’ve probably seen more Red Sox games at Jimmy’s than any other bar in the world. The Sox fans all know each other more or less, and the bartenders know us as Sox fans. I’ve even been heckled by Vyto for doing homework there while a Sox game was on. And they came out of the woodwork last night.
And it was just electric the whole time. Sure, the Damon homerun calmed everyone’s nerves, I’m sure, but still. Everyone was in a great mood, happy, clapping after every strike to a Card and ball to a Sox player. Finally, in the eighth, jinxy me gave over $20 to Lubna to go get some champagne that we’d bring in, politely. We polished off five bottles of the stuff (Chris bought one, too), and the Croatian bartender was the only one to spray the stuff around, which was nice.
I cried, I talked on the phone, I hugged, I clapped, I wished I was Theo.
I still do. He is probably the real MVP here. Duquette built the foundation of this team, but Theo was the master patcher.
Maybe I’ll write more later, when I’ve had time to think this through. But now I have to pack for Boston. I’m going to the parade!
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